


I am not Worthy

by daylight_angel



Category: MASH (TV)
Genre: Bisexual Hawkeye Pierce, Episode Related, M/M, S1E12 Dear Dad, Smut, Trap is bi too but won't admit it to himself, queer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-11
Updated: 2019-01-11
Packaged: 2019-10-08 05:04:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17380118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daylight_angel/pseuds/daylight_angel
Summary: “Love is a sacrament that should be taken kneeling, and Domine non sum dignus should be on the lips and in the hearts of those who receive it.” -Oscar WildeTrapper and Hawkeye, at the end of "Dear Dad".





	I am not Worthy

One of the first thing Hawkeye Pierce learns about Trapper John McIntyre is that he doesn't do feelings, not really. He doesn't usually talk about anything deeper then sex and surgery, gin and jokes.

It isn't just that he has a life and a wife and a family back in the States, or that he insists he isn't queer, not like Hawkeye is. It's that where Hawkeye is verbose, wears his intentions on his sleeve, Trap is taciturn, tightly restrained until the moment he can't hold back anymore. When Hawk is angry, or in love, or sad, or _anything_ , the whole world knows. Trapper by comparison is a powder keg, mundane until something or someone ignites it, clenched fists sparked into a punch to the jaw, a private smile kindled to a hard and bruising kiss.

Hawkeye isn't sure when their relationship became a capital ‘R’ _relationship_ , at least in his head. It had started as casual sex, a sure thing when they struck out with the nurses, a warm body when no one else was willing.

Now though, Hawkeye stands by the chopper pad in a Santa suit and wishes Trapper would let him say goodbye, just in case.

He wishes he could run across the compound, tug him behind a building and kiss him long and deep, a promise to come back, a balm if he doesn't.

 But Trap doesn't do feelings. 

What Trap _does_ do is sex and surgery, and he does both very well.

Hawkeye comes back well after dark, blood soaked and bone tired, windswept from the helicopter blades. He dots the last ‘i’ on his letter just before Trapper finds him curled up on his cot in the Swamp.

He doesn't say anything, just tugs Hawkeye over to the showers. The Christmas party is in full swing and, for once, nobody will miss them. He strips Hawkeye out of the suit, both of them too tired to make jokes, and pushes him under the spray.

Trapper stares at him a moment, eyes dark with anger and lust in equal measure. Hawkeye whimpers, out of want and exhaustion and a little bit of fear. Trap peels off his own clothes and pushes Hawk against the shower wall, a hard press of mouth's.

The kiss is fervent and desperate and full of things neither of them can bear to say, Trapper's tongue parting Hawkeye’s lips, Hawkeye clutching at his back hard enough to leave marks.

Trapper lowers himself to his knees and it's a surrender, a concession to all the things he won't let himself feel, when he takes Hawkeye into his mouth.

He scrapes his teeth just a little against the skin and Hawkeye isn't sure if it's inexperience or a tease, as Trapper has never _ever_ done this for him before. He swears and grabs out blindly, fisting his hands in the other man's curls.  

“Oh god, Trap, _”_ he pants, trying to keep his voice down, “Fuck, that feels-”

There's no words, for what watching Trapper's head bob between his legs does to him, the feeling of his curly blond hair underneath his fingers, the mind fuck of knowing Trap would do this for him, wants this from him.

There's no words but Hawkeye babbles anyway, because that's what he does, but he doesn't, _can't_ say what he desperately wants to.

 _You look so good doing this._  He thinks. _So good and beautiful._

Trapper's eyes are closed but Hawkeye can feel him shaking, feels the way fear and fatigue tense his body and wants to smooth it away, caress his cheek and tell him it's alright, that Hawkeye is okay, that it's fine to feel this way.

_So good, so right, my Trap._

But Trapper doesn't do feelings, not like Hawkeye does.

Trapper is sex and surgery, gin and jokes, with a wife and a life and he insists he isn't queer, even if he does fuck men, even if he will go to his knees for Hawkeye.

_God, on your knees for me, only for me._

He's close, so very close, so he tugs a warning, Trapper clumsily drawing back. He kisses Hawkeye again and the taste of his own cock on Trap's lips combined with his broad and dexterous fingers on the same takes Hawkeye to pieces.

 _I think I may be falling for you, Trapper John McIntyre._ Hawkeye thinks as he comes, biting his lip to keep from crying out.

 _I wish you'd let me_.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to everybody at the Swamp who encouraged me during smutathon, couldn't have wrote or published this without you guys!


End file.
